


easy like

by thezerocard



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: F/M, M/M, Wall Sex, i'm not a scalie but i'm also not a coward, in the immortal words of our people:, second citadel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 03:21:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13941507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thezerocard/pseuds/thezerocard
Summary: One warm morning, Rilla sets out to convince Arum that Damien isn't quite so delicate after all.“He’s not a brawler, after all, and it was hardly an equitable contest, given that he had no knowledge of my abilities, yet I was prepared for--”“I’ve heard the tale, Damien.” She said it without offense, gave his thigh a little squeeze. “But the fact remains that in a direct contest of strength, he lost. I just don’t see why he has to go on about what a helpless and succulent little morsel you are.”





	easy like

**Author's Note:**

> Be the bouquet porn you want to see in the world.

It was summer in the Citadel. High summer, hot and humid summer, with the shepherd star high overhead and air so thick it settled on you like a blanket.

The heat made folk lazy, and no shame in it; there was nothing to be done, really, until the light had tempered some and the worst of the bugs were gone. They’d spent all morning in bed. Breakfast was berries, right there in bed, so fresh and ripe they had nearly bled all over the sheets. They’d eaten with their hands and licked them clean. She’d felt so light, like she hadn’t in ages-- it had been almost childlike, the pure joy of it, excepting the moment where Arum had wrapped his tongue twice around one of Damien’s fingers and they all simultaneously had some very adult thoughts.

But it hadn’t lead to anything, and they were still just laying together in warm comfort, legs tangled. There was silence for the moment. Rilla watched a stripe of sunlight travel slowly up Damien’s face, towards his closed lids. She wondered if he could feel it on his skin. It seemed heavy enough that he might.

On the other side of the bed, Arum raised his head from the pillow. He was looking at Damien, too, and the light that illuminated him like a blessing.

“Such a delicate little honeysuckle,” he murmured. Damien’s eyelids fluttered. She suspected somewhere under the sheets Arum’s tail was moving. “I forget how vulnerable you humans are, sometimes.” His hand trailed upwards, claws just barely touching Damien’s chest.

“Not _so_ delicate,” Rilla countered, resting a hand of her own on his thigh. She was aware Arum didn’t really think all humans were completely defenseless-- she suspected it was a thing he said to get to Damien, and it was very effective-- but she was feeling contrary. “He’s a knight of the crown, after all. And he’s beaten you in a fight, as I understand it.”

“Hardly a fair fight!” Apparently giving up on pretending to slumber, Damien looked back and forth between them, then settled on Rilla. “He’s not a brawler, after all, and it was hardly an equitable contest, given that he had no knowledge of my abilities, yet I was prepared for--”

“I’ve heard the tale, Damien.” She said it without offense, gave his thigh a little squeeze. “But the fact remains that in a direct contest of strength, he lost. I just don’t see why he has to go on about what a helpless and succulent little morsel you are.”

“Well, I-- that is--” He looked back to Arum for help, who only opened his mouth and then shut it again without speaking. She was still learning to read his face, but from the way his tail was twitching against her ankle, she suspected this particular expression was embarrassment.

“He’s stronger than you think. He can lift me, you know, and I’m not especially dainty.” He made a noise in his throat that no human could produce, but which she immediately interpreted as skeptical.

“Oh, fine. Damien.”

“Me? Oh. Alright.”

She got out of bed without further ado and waited for him to join her, Arum looking on with a tilt to his head. She rolled her shoulders and gestured Damien closer, then set her hands on his shoulders and looked at him expectantly.

“Lift me,” she said simply.

He placed his hands on her bare waist and she bent her knees obediently, let him lift her high like they were dancing at the festival. A raise and a turn, and he set her gently down in front of the bed. With Arum seated, their heads were on a level for once. They made eye contact. He didn’t seem terribly impressed. Rilla shook her head at him, then turned back to face Damien. The sunlight that had touched his face lit him in profile now, every bare and gleaming inch. Beautiful, but not her goal at the moment. She reined herself back to the task.

“Not quite what I meant,” she said, eyeing him measuringly. She pressed at his chest and he obediently stepped backwards, walking with her towards the wall. When they were a foot away she stopped suddenly, used the momentum to spin them and pin herself against the smooth grey stone. She smiled up at Damien’s confused face.

“I said _lift me_.” His throat moved, a nervous swallow; that was all the warning she had before he’d gripped her backside with two strong hands and lifted her clear off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist, deliberately graceful, and met Arum’s eyes.

Aha. _Now_ he’d got it.

“See?” She hooked one arm around Damien’s neck, slid the other slowly down his back, over the expanse of warm, smooth skin. It felt a little like she was showing off. She probably was showing off. She didn’t feel bad about it. “And he can hold this for ages. Well. He can hold it for as long as I ask, at any rate.”

“I stand corrected.” A shudder went through Damien’s body when Arum spoke, and it made something go molten within her. There was a smile on her face she couldn’t seem to shake. It felt a little feral. She settled back against the stone wall. It hadn’t yet absorbed the day’s warmth, and the cool of it against her naked back was positively delicious.

Damien wanted, very badly, to kiss her; she could see it by the tilt of his head. But she held it off, just luxuriating, toying with the soft little curls at the back of his neck and looking at him as he looked at her. He was beautiful, her knight. Even when he couldn’t speak his heart aloud he did it with his eyes, his face-- there was no artifice in him, no shame or secrecy, just honest yearning, adoration. She didn’t feel quite worthy of it sometimes. She suspected Arum felt the same. They were all drawn to things they lacked.

Tightening her grip on the hair at his nape made him sway closer. She raised her eyebrows significantly at Arum over his shoulder- _you see?_ \- and then brought his mouth to hers for a kiss.

It was a scorching kiss. Damien had waited, and patiently, and now everything that he hadn’t said was pouring out. He kept pulling away to mouth at her neck, her shoulders, left pecking kisses on her cheeks and nose like he couldn’t decide which part of her to worship first. With the hand on his neck she halted him, after a while, keeping his mouth joined to hers, feeling the temperature rise around them until she imagined heat coming off her skin in waves. She didn’t have much leverage, but if she tightened her legs she could grind up against him, feel where he was hot and hard and so ready for her.

She needed to be fucked _yesterday_.

She slid one hand down her body, questing with her fingers. Pressed up against each other as they were, Damien felt it, and he opened his eyes to watch her. She slid two fingers inside and let him see her reaction, a shaky inhale as she registered the fullness, the warmth. She was slick but that was no surprise, she’d been thinking of this for hours under those sheets...or, well, something _like_ this...  
Rilla bit her lip and crooked her fingers, indulged, for few more moments, letting herself be held, taking her own pleasure. Then she slowed and withdrew her hand. (She hesitated, for a moment, holding it awkwardly away from Damien’s arm, then deliberately gripped his shoulder with it, fingers brushing the back of his neck.)

“Arum?” she called out, expectantly. There was a jolt of movement from the bed, one that quickly smoothed into an elegant gesture of two hands.

“Yes, blossom?”

“I’m proving a point, and I really think you ought to get a closer view.”

“Well. Of course I can’t refuse such a generous invitation.” Arum drew himself up languidly, cool as you please. Rilla rolled her eyes but held her tongue, because--

“Of course you need not wait for an invitation, dearest! When we said that our hearts and our bed were always open to you, we truly meant it!”

Arum’s posture became slightly less cool. He set two hands on Damien’s back, another on Rilla’s hip, pressed a kiss into Damien’s hair. Despite being just as naked as the two of them, he didn’t seem it, which felt terribly unfair. Perhaps monsters had fewer taboos against nakedness? Perhaps it was the scales. She might need to conduct some research.

“Thank you for the clarification, honeysuckle.”

“Yes, thank you, Damien. Now, I thought we might need some extra hands-- or four-- because I’m going to need Damien to fuck me up against this wall, and in order for us to--”  
She stopped. She’d thought that Arum was licking Damien’s neck, which really wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, but actually it didn’t even look like his tongue was touching the skin, only air, almost like--

Well, it looked like he was scenting the air. Specifically the air where her right hand was.

Rilla didn’t blush easily, but she thought about it. Her boys were looking at her expectantly. She swallowed.

“Arum, just...help me lift my hips, would you?”

They didn’t really need the help; they’d managed just fine before, after all, with a bit of effort. But the point of having two lovers, in Rilla’s mind, was that you got to be a little gratuitous. So she directed Arum to come closer, place his hands on her thighs next to Damien’s. The texture of his palms was so different, but his grip was just as certain. They started to lift her higher, and she was angling her hips and reaching for Damien, when Arum stilled. They both looked at him expectantly.

“I’ve had a thought,” he said. “Allow me.”

He moved all of his arms in concert, gently nudging Damien backwards without letting go of Rilla, until he could slide in behind her, pressing their bodies together. His scales were not quite as cool as the stone, but the texture was certainly more pleasant.

Now she was away from the wall completely, pinned between the two of them, suspended and held. She grinned up at Arum.

“That’s the kind of innovation we encourage around here. Just don’t drop me.”

“I would never!” exclaimed Damien, sounding a little hurt.

“It’s not you I’m worried about.”

Arum have a huff of offense but said nothing. The hands not on her hips slid upwards, gently brushing her rib cage to cup her breasts. She shivered. She was sensitive there, and a little went a long way- which was convenient when you were dealing with claws.

Damien was watching them with stars in his eyes and a flush on his cheeks. She leaned her head back against Arum’s chest.

“When you’re ready, my love.”

He took himself in hand, trusting Arum to keep her steady, and let out a sharp breath of air. He looked into her eyes as he pressed into her, watching her face intently, so that when she winced a little he stopped without her needing to say a word. He held himself still, waiting patiently, as she shifted and squirmed, trying to relax. Arum toyed with one of her nipples, a pleasant distraction, and after a moment she pressed her heel into Damien’s back, pushing him forward, a much smoother slide, filling her up to the hilt, glorious and familiar. She made a noise without meaning to, breathy and low. Arum chuckled. If she weren’t feeling quite so pleased she’d have hit him.

But she was feeling pleased, and about to be more so, so she let it go. Damien pulled out, still slow and easy, and she drew him back in, again and again, her legs tight around him and her heels at his back.

“Look at you,” Arum murmured, cool and steady at her back as Damien fucked into her, hot and hard and unceasing. “Beautiful Amaryllis.” She could feel his breath on her neck, and his hands on her breasts were still moving, teasing in counterpoint to Damien’s movements. She was just clinging to Damien’s shoulders now, so longer capable of anything else, just letting the two of them do as she’d asked, as she’d _told_ , getting exactly what she’d wanted. Arum kept talking.

“You were right, blossom, he is strong. And yet all that strength is yours as well, I think...how easily he gives it, and how easily you take.” She and Damien both were listening now, joined together but focused on him, prey hypnotized before a treesnake. His voice was a low rasp she only ever heard in bed. “The harder he fucks you, the more you ask for, and he aches to please…” Rilla bit her lip, feeling her climax building, holding back the noises that wanted to escape. He bent his head to whisper directly into her ear. “The two of you were made to torment me.”

When she came it was a wave of pleasure, molten, overwhelming. Her back arched and Arum moved to keep a hold on her as Damien fucked her through it, as her muscles tightened and released and she finally gave voice to a full-throated moan. After what felt like a genuinely excessive amount of time she relaxed and slumped back against Arum, looking at Damien with half-lidded eyes. He’d stopped when she did but he was still inside her, and from the color of his cheeks he was awfully close.

“Mmm. Well, that’s my turn done. Off you get, please, Damien.” Arum made a sound like he was choking on a laugh, for Damien was doing a very poor job of concealing his dismay. He pulled out of her nevertheless, and she took a moment to adjust to the emptiness as they lowered her to the floor. She gave him a kiss on the shoulder.

“I don’t mean to deprive you, my love. I only mean that it’s Arum’s turn now.”

“I _beg_ your pardon,” said Arum, in a tone much closer to a demand. She stumbled over to the bed without bothering to look back and let her knees give out. Mmm. Nice. She stretched her arms over her head and took a deep and satisfied inhale. Then she continued.

“Damien has a strong sense of perseverance. As a knight, it’s nearly killed him three times, that I know of. As a lover, I have no complaints.”

They’d been standing side by side, looking at her, but now Damien turned to Arum fully and set his palm on his chest.

“I really am capable of continuing,” he said earnestly. “I once carried Sir Angelo for three hours when he’d been knocked unconscious, and you’re much less dense than he is. It’s no strain at all, really.”

Rilla rearranged the bedding, keeping her eyes down and away to give them a moment. With the pillows piled just so she could lie comfortably on her side and still get a good view of the action.

Arum made that rattling noise in his throat and shook his head.

“Very well. But please refrain from mentioning that numbskull during bedsport unless you want me to kill him after.”

Rilla was glad they couldn’t see her face. _Honestly._  But Damien only chuckled, gently.

“As you wish, my dear.”

They stood there like fools for another moment, staring at each other, but then Damien reached out for Arum’s thighs just as he’d done hers. There was a moment of awkward scrambling-- he was, after all, not only a good bit taller than her but also possessed of a tail-- but then Damien had him up against the stone. Arum looked at her over Damien’s shoulder, and she couldn’t help but smirk at him. His tail swayed, and then he slid a hand into Damien’s hair just as she had and drew him closer. There was no distance between them now, and she imagined it was the press of their pricks together that made Arum close his eyes and open his mouth, even before Damien began to move.

The pace Damien set was a rapid one, but Arum seemed like he could scarcely get enough. His hands were in constant motion on Damien’s arms, stroking, gripping, pulling him closer. Saints, they were desperate for it. And they were beautiful. The contrast of shining scales and gleaming skin might have been absurd, obscene; instead it was the most natural thing she could imagine. They moved together like they’d been doing it for years, like two parts of one soul. It made her understand the impulse that set Damien to compose sonnets about her thighs. On that note, he’d been suspiciously silent for some time, hadn’t he?

“My, ahh, Arum,” Damien started, and Rilla locked her eyes on Arum’s face. _She_ knew what was about to happen, but she suspected he didn’t, and the reception should certainly be interesting.  
“Your hands, Arum. Your touch alone, the slightest brush of your hand, and every part of me quivers to attention, yearning for your caress; having it in abundance I am overwhelmed, aflame, surrounded by you at every turn! From every angle the press of smooth scale and muscle, ever-present, tail, claws, teeth, tongue! Danger transmuted, lead into gold, lust into lust into lust, a crucible of desire--”

As she watched his pupils dilated, his breaths quickened. He bared his teeth in a way she might have once interpreted as a threat, but now it was clear to her that he was trying to hold himself in, trying to exert control. She could’ve told him that control went out the window when Damien gave you his heart.

“Honeysuckle—“ Arum threw his head back, nostrils flared, and drew in a deep lungful of air. “You are going to be the death of me.”

“Only the _little_ death, I hope, Lord Arum,” murmured Damien, chasing the column of that exposed neck with his tongue. His hips were unfaltering, and she found herself fixated on the way his muscles moved, shoulders and back and thighs, gleaming like polished wood.

In this position it looked like they were-- like he could-- there was a conversation they hadn’t had yet, but Rilla was thinking about it, certainly, about whether or not Arum would like it, if it was something he wanted to do. Damien certainly enjoyed it. And wasn’t that a thought, that perhaps Arum would let _her_ … She stood up from the bed.

“Damien, hold on for a moment.”

Arum made a protesting noise, but Damien stilled immediately, keeping him suspended and their hips apart. Rilla made a soothing sound back at him. She eased herself up against Damien’s back, pressing skin to skin. Her hands drifted down his arms slowly, just feeling the tension in the muscles there, until they arrived at the place where he gripped Arum’s thighs. She laid her hands over his, lacing their fingers, tightening his grip the smallest degree.

Then she moved her hips forward, slow but certain. Damien’s hips moved with her. Arum let out a long, low exhale that rattled in his throat.

“Blossom--” he began.

“You wanted strength, Arum. I think perhaps we can persevere a little longer.”

He changed tactics, drawing one claw gently down the side of Damien’s neck. Rilla felt his grip shift, watched him tilt his head to invite the touch. She pulled back, drawing him with her, pressed forward again.

“Honeysuckle?”

“I-- that is-- not to deny you, my dear, but I’ve found that in certain-- oh! That in certain scenarios, it can be more advantageous to-- aha-- surrender command, as it were, to Rilla, who has shown a that a truly inventive scientific mind is a weapon which should not be underestima-- ah, ah-- underestimated!” This last was practically a moan; between her grinding thrusts and Arum’s hands, it was a wonder he could speak at all.

Well. It was Damien, after all. He was only rendered truly speechless when he was unconscious, and even then there were odd nights.

She pressed a kiss to his shoulder and looked up at Arum through her lashes.

“No mercy from either of us,” she said. “Don’t worry. You’ll enjoy it.”

“Oh, there’s no worry about that,” he muttered in reply. “I only fear for my chances of survival.”

She bared her teeth in a grin.

After they’d first tried this particular bedsport, Damien had composed a paen in her honor that compared her to the tides. He’d called her powerful, relentless...he probably hadn’t actually used the word “pounding”, but it had been implied. She’d been flattered and aroused to a degree that still embarrassed her. The pace she set now was an echo of that first night, steady, just on the verge of too slow, the full strength of her thighs as she thrust them against each other, against the stone. Her palms were sweating, or Damien was; she dug her fingers in a little more. He was close. They all were, she thought.

Rilla nipped at the back of his neck, which caused a little stutter in his rhythm, and then dropped her hands, which stopped it completely. Arum made a noise which was absolutely a whimper, and which she immediately wanted to hear again. She licked her lips and managed not to comment on it.

Instead, she moved. She stepped to the side so she could put a hand on each of them, Arum’s side, Damien’s back, and guided them to a faster pace. They needed little encouragement. Arum buried a hand in Damien’s hair, stroked his neck, slid two fingers into his mouth-- four hands! She’d envied them for running experiments but now she was covetous for an entirely different reason.

From here she could see both of their faces, and Damien’s was familiar, overcome, lost in pleasure. But Arum’s-- _saints_. For once there was no wondering what he was feeling. It gave her a heady sense of power (to have brought such a creature so far!), but it was more than that. There was pride rising in her, and a fierce need to protect, and a deep gratitude for the gift he was giving them. She stroked her hand down his side in a way that might have been soothing but for the bite of her nails.

They were starting to lose their rhythm, speeding out of time. Arum had pulled his hands away from Damien’s skin so as not to clutch too tightly with his claws. Damien was saying “oh, oh, oh,” like he’d forgotten other words existed, and Arum watched him with wide open eyes, frill rising. When he finally came it was with something close to a wail, a burst of energy that pressed Arum hard against the stone and held him there. That seemed to be all he’d needed, for he followed after in a sinuous roll of his hips and a hiss.

The two of them stared into each other’s eyes, breathing hard, and Rilla found she was smiling again. She gave Damien a pat on the ass.

“You can let him down now, I think.” They both blinked at her, then he did so, a little sheepishly. It looked like Arum was trying to regain his composure, but he was stymied somewhat by the white ropes dripping from his stomach and thighs. He wobbled a little as he got his feet on the ground and leaned back against the wall for stability. Damien didn’t look much better, still a little glazed around the eyes.

“I’ll get the washcloth,” she told them, and gave each of them a quick little peck.

“You will?” Arum was holding a hand over his stomach like he both did and didn’t want to touch the mess there. The pump was outside, and generally there was at least one round of complaining before someone went to fetch water.

“Well, Damien did all the work, and I’ve had a moment to rest, so I suppose it falls to me. Don’t go anywhere.”

“As if we could,” murmured Arum, and a little giggle escaped Damien. She shook her head at the pair of them and went to go take care of her boys.


End file.
